Seth | Page 4

was neither fair nor fond: a predominance of muscle and a certain rough deftness of hand were her chief charms. Ordinary sentiment would have been thrown away upon her; and, fortunately, she was spared it.
"She's noan hurt wi' good looks, our Bess," her father remarked with graceful chivalrousness on more than one occasion, "but hoo con heave a'most as much as I con, an' that's summat."
Consequently, it did not seem likely that the feeling she had evidently awakened in the breast of their lodger was akin to the tender passion.
"Am I in yo're way?" he would ask apologetically; and the answer was invariably a gracious if curt one: "No--no more than th' cat. Stay wheer yo' are, lad, an' make yo'resen' comfortable."
There came a change, however, in the nature of their intercourse, but this did not occur until the lad had been with them some three months. For several days he had been ailing and unlike himself. He had been even more silent than usual; he had eaten little, and lagged on his way to and from his work; he looked thinner, and his step was slow and uncertain. There was so great an alteration in him, in fact, that Bess softened toward him visibly. She secretly bestowed the best morsels upon him, and even went so far as to attempt conversation. "Let yo're work go a bit," she advised: "yo're noan fit fur it."
But he did not give up until the third week of illness, and then one warm day at noon, Bess, at work in her kitchen among dishes and pans, was startled from her labors by his appearing at the door and staggering toward her. "What's up wi' yo'?" she demanded. "Yo' look loike death."
"I dunnot know," he faltered, and then, staggering again, caught at her dress with feeble hands "Dunnot yo'," he whispered, sinking forward-- "dunnot yo' let no one--come anigh me."
She flung a strong arm around him, and saved him from a heavy fall. His head dropped helplessly against her breast.
"He's fainted dead away," she said: "he mun ha' been worse than he thowt fur."
She laid him down, and, loosening his clothes at the throat, went for water; but a few minutes after she had bent over him for the second time an exclamation, which was almost a cry, broke from' her. "Lord ha' mercy!" she said, and fell back, losing something of color herself.
She had scarcely recovered herself even when, after prolonged efforts, she succeeded in restoring animation to the prostrate figure under her hands. The heavy eyes opening met hers in piteous appeal and protest.
"I--thowt it wur death comn," said the lad. "I wur hopin' as it wur death."
"What ha' yo' done as yo' need wish that?" said. Bess; and then, her voice shaking with excitement which got the better of her and forced her to reveal herself, she added, "I've fun' out that as yo've been hidin'."
Abrupt and unprefaced as her speech was, it scarcely produced the effect she had expected it would. Her charge neither flinched nor reddened. He laid a weak, rough hand upon her dress with a feebly pleading touch. "Dunnot yo' turn agen me," he whispered: "yo' wouldna if yo' knew."
"But I dunnot know," Bess answered, a trifle doggedly, despite her inward relentings.
"I comn to yo'," persisted the lad, "because I thowt yo' wouldna turn agen me: yo' wouldna," patiently again, "if yo' knew."
*****
Gradually the ponderous witticism in which Janner had indulged became an accepted joke in the settlement. Bess had fallen a victim to the tender sentiment at last. She had found an adorer, and had apparently succumbed to his importunities. Seth spent less time in his shanty and more in her society. He lingered in her vicinity on all possible occasions, and seemed to derive comfort from her mere presence. And Bess not only tolerated but encouraged him. Not that her manner was in the least degree effusive: she rather extended a rough protection to her admirer, and displayed a tendency to fight his battles and employ her sharper wit as a weapon in his behalf.
"Yo' may get th' best o' him," she said dryly once to the wit of the Creek, who had been jocular at his expense, "but yo' conna get th' best o' me. Try me a bit, lad. I'm better worth yo're mettle."
"What's takken yo', lass?" said her mother at another time. "Yo're that theer soft about th chap as theer's no makkin' yo' out. Yo' wur nivver loike to be soft afore," somewhat testily. "An' it's noan his good looks, neyther."
"No," said Bess--"it's noan his good looks."
"Happen it's his lack on 'em, then?"
"Happen it is." And there the discussion ended for want of material.
There was one person, however, who did not join in the jesting; and this was Langley. When he